textiles · exploration · misadventure

Grace After the Storm

Despite the giant grease stain and the temper tantrum that followed, there is some grace to the story of this new oxalis dye.

While there is a giant grease stain—or three—right in the middle of this piece of cream-colored wool, it is also true that the dye job is, frankly, quite beautiful, and I am enamored of it, grease stain or no.

Colors range from deep corn to light, pure yellow, with light green undertones here and there. (I try to just ignore the grease stains in this picture.)

This picture is painful.

When I first realized what I’d done to the fabric by using those binder clips, I scrounged up some mordanted fabrics I had laying around and threw them into the dye pot, hoping to get several pieces of compatibly dyed fabrics with which to extend the stained piece, if need be. I was very happy with the results.

The two larger pieces are soy mordanted. I can’t remember about the other two. These were left in the pot for varying durations, which achieved a range of shades.

I loved my bougainvillea yarns when I made them, and I love using them now, in my new rumpling project. But these wools are possibly better, and I think I will be singing inside when I go to finally make something from them. Hopefully, by that time, I’ll be only slightly disgruntled about the grease stain that I can do nothing about.

My intention with this piece was to make a pillow slip—a little boring, I know, but I couldn’t think of anything else—with a whole piece of matching cloth, so I cut it one yard wide by a half yard long, aiming for a 16×16 slip.

I may be able to cut this down to a front and backs for a 12×16 slip. Or I may be able to cut it up smaller and piece it together in an interesting way. But it just looks so cool whole. Here are some closer-ups on the two dip-dyed ends.

They are so mysterious. They’re like sandstorms in the desert, layered terrain seen through a scrim of suspended particles. I find them romantic, and a little haunting.